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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24945919">The walls between us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzenkinder/pseuds/Katzenkinder'>Katzenkinder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (France)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Important Conversations, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Canon Compliant, season 6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:21:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24945919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzenkinder/pseuds/Katzenkinder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Samedi 01:57 it's time Eliott and Lucas have a talk</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The walls between us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They sleep until noon - Lucas on the couch and Eliott in their bed curled up in a ball beneath the blanket. Lucas doesn't know if he's doing that because he feels poorly after puking all morning or if he's too ashamed to face the day. Either way Lucas gives him space. He's not feeling his best either to be honest. A spent awake with worry followed by an all too early morning run to the police station to collect a belligerent boyfriend will wear anyone down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brews a pot of strong coffee. It feels like he could sleep for several more hours but the couch is lumpy and he doesn't want to disturb Eliott by getting into bed with him. So he drinks enough coffee to make his head spin and buries himself in a random textbook. Revising is useless but the familiar symbols ground Lucas, keeps him preoccupied so he can’t pick up his phone and do something he’ll later regret. He writes equation after equation until he hears Eliott stir in their bedroom. Only then does he reach for his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>U hungry?</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A reply never comes but he spends the next half hour making enough pasta for the two of them anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The absolute lack of noise in the apartment is numbing. He feels like he's in a vacuum, like time inside their bubble has stopped temporarily. He trades his books for his laptop after lunch and  scrolls through a mental health message board. While he reads real life accounts of people mixing alcohol with meds, a new worry slowly rises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott recently went through a slew of new meds until his therapist found the right cocktail to keep his Bipolar Disorder in check. He was out of it for a couple of weeks while he adjusted but he stuck it out in the end because if there's one thing Eliotts absolutely hates it's switching meds. Still it was hard to watch. Would Eliott’s therapist make him switch to something that didn’t interact so badly with alcohol? He doesn’t know how much Eliott drank. Lola didn't know either and he hates her for that. If she wants to destroy her life then fine. Just leave his boyfriend out of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end there’s just too much information. His brain feels like scrambled eggs by the time he shuts his laptop. They'd get no definitive answer until Eliott sees his therapist so there’s no point in trying to figure this shit out on his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Going for a walk</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Let me know if you need anything</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The humid summer air clears the funk from Lucas' mind and he draws in a long, deep breath as if to cleanse himself. He's going to open all the windows when he gets back he decides. It might do Eliott some good too. In the courtyard he runs into Madam Allard. She's a feeble, hunched woman with a small toast-colored pomeranian at her feet. The duo is as cute as they are lopsided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good afternoon," he greets both of them with a wide smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good afternoon, sweetheart."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Going for a walk?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes. My little Ouba here needs her exercise," she says with a tired sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you want me to take her? I’m going to the park." He's always been a dog person and Ouba is just so cute with her little pink bow as she looks up at Lucas with big brown eyes, fluffy tail wagging.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That would be wonderful, Lucas. Thank you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I have your girl, </b>
  <span>Lucas texts before ending a photo to Eliott. If he's Ouba's #1 fan then Eliott is a close second. They even bought her a dress and a pair booties for Christmas. But it's not enough to rouse Eliott so Lucas shrugs off the lack of response and they spend the afternoon in the shade of Bois De Vincennes. By the end of their outing his phone’s full of new photos and he's spammed Eliott with at least half a dozen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Ouba says she misses you</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas stops by the florist, a tradition now. This time he picks a cheery bouquet of sunflowers. Ouba returns to the arms of Madam Allard after many puppy kisses and Lucas heads upstairs. The darkness and the stale air are jarring after his break outside so he throws back the curtains and opens the tall windows. He puts the little bouquet in a vase and leaves it on the battered kitchen table for Eliott to find. There are unwashed dishes in the sink and candy wrappers on the counter. Someone’s been rummaging in the kitchen. Any other time the mess would irritate him but now he feels relief, cleans up, and starts dinner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes curry for dinner. The smell is heavenly but it's another meal he's going to be eating alone. His phone buzzes. He reaches for it out of habit. On the screen it says he has a message from Eliott and his heart does a wobbly somersault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>love you</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas smiles and quickly responds, </span>
  <b>love you too 🖇</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Eliott migrates to the couch by Sunday. He feels hollow from the inside out, like someone had scooped up all his insides with a rusty spoon and left him a fragile and weakened husk. He exchanges his rumpled club clothes for a pair clean sweatpants and Lucas's </span>
  <em>
    <span>Romance</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoodie. It's soft and smells like fresh linen and feels like a hug from Lucas.  He’d like a shower - he feels disgusting honestly - but can’t summon the energy. The fumbling walk to the couch alone is enough to make him slip back into another troubled sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time blurs. His phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it. He turns on a random movie after he wakes up for a second time, and is only partly paying attention to it when Lucas enters the apartment with a sack of groceries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott attempts a smile. "Hey." His voice is rough, throat raw. He can't look at Lucas for very long. How can Lucas stand there looking all soft when Eliott had been so fucking reckless? Had made him get up at the crack of dawn to collect his drunk ass at the police station? Why isn’t he angry? Or ashamed?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you hungry?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question cuts through Eliott's self loathing like a knife. Why does Lucas even care?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not really. Can you get me some water though?" He hates to ask but he doesn’t want Lucas to see him stumble to the kitchen because his own legs won't hold him up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Com’ere," Eliott mumbles after Lucas returns with a bottle of water. Eliott drags himself halfway up, leaning on his elbows, and pats the couch cushion. Lucas sits down and he promptly lays his throbbing head in his lap, siping from the bottle gratefully. Lucas’s fingers find their way to Eliott's hair and begin to gently massage his scalp. Eliott wants to cry and melt into the couch at the same time, so happy Lucas isn't mad at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas seems content to watch the movie in silence but Eliott can't relax. His mind is a storm of words that he's trying to put some order too because there are things he needs to say. When he speaks up in a soft reedy voice, "I'm sorry, Lucas. I thought Lola needed a friend but she really just wanted someone to be as miserable as she was. She got under my skin. Said some things they've been bothering me for a while now and then I just wanted to get drunk and forget everything."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What kind of things, babe?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a heavy pause. The truth is a heavy weight on his tongue. "That I'm a fuck up."  His eyes well up with big fat tears. His throat clamps shut so hard it aches. "Even when I'm at my best there’s a voice that tells me it's just a matter of time before I fuck up. That everyone expects me to. Even you. So I gave in. I thought if I was going to fuck up might as well have a fun night, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry she hurt you," Lucas says. His voice is terse and Eliott can't imagine how he views Lola now. Hell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn't even know how he views Lola anymore. He thought they were friends. But now? Now he doesn't know. "You didn't deserve it. And I don't think you're a fuck up, Eliott. I didn't think you were one a year ago and I don't think you're one today."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're just saying that." He says it like it's the darkest secret he has because it's true. He's afraid Lucas is just telling him only what he wants to hear because they're in love. That’s the last thing he wants - a cute portrait that decorates the walls between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I’m not lying. Not about this,” Lucas says fiercely. "Not when it comes to you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eliott thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s my hedgehog bearing his teeth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides mental health isn't linear, Eliott," Lucas replies gently and damn if that doesn’t send Eiott’s mind reeling. Lucas traces his pointer finger slowly down the middle of Eliott's forehead and along the straight bridge of his nose. Eliott's eyes drift close, focusing on the gentle touch. He's pretty sure Lucas pulls this same move on Ouba when he wants her to calm down. "You'll have really really good days and you will have days when you just want to give up. I've seen all of that, and Eliott, the way you fight so hard is unbelievable. I just wish you would learn to forgive yourself when you have a bad day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want any bad days, Lucas,” he whispers. “I don't want to be a fuck up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're human, babe. It happens to every single person. What makes you so special, huh?" Lucas says gently, pinching the end of Eliott's nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott smiles again, shooing Lucas’s hands away weakly. "Ok ok stop. I can have bad days."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And so can I."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you trying to get off the hook for being pissy about your exams?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm just giving you a fair warning, ok?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ok one topic down. One more to go.  "I have something else to tell you, Lucas."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know the nights I come home late from Uni?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, Eliott. Shutupshutupshutup.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm actually spray painting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott drags his phone out of his pockets and pulls up his gallery. "Here. I've been doing it for years. Lucille hated it. She thought I'd get arrested so I told her I stopped. I didn't tell you because, well, I was scared."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas's silence is contemplative as he scrolls through photo after photo of spray painted street art strewed throughout the underbelly of Paris. Some small. Some big. Some in places that probably makes Lucas's stomach drop. He’s quiet for a long time and Eliott feels his heart shrivel up in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lucas?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck, Eliott.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it. Here it comes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is so cool!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait. What? An unstoppable smile lights up Eliott's face. "Yeah? You think so?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah but, oh my god, it's so dangerous! Do you go alone?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. It's just me and the raccoons."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas looks as him in awe. Eliott tentatively takes that as a good sign. "You're not mad?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well I do wish you told me the truth earlier."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. I just...I don't want to stop painting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I won't stop you from doing something you love, Eliott. I'm sending myself some,” Lucas says and gets to work without asking and Eliott's heart feels so full. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did he ever think Lucas would care if he tagged buildings? This is his Lucas. His Lucas in every single universe. The same Lucas who's eyes twinkle with pride when Eliott tells him about his latest projects. The same Lucas who kisses his forehead when he can't get out of bed some mornings. The same one who holds his hand when his heart feels like it's about to fly out his chest. The same Lucas who sits by his side and watches the movies Eliott picks out no matter how pretentious they are. The same sweet, gentle Lucas whose love for Eliott is as deep as the sea and the same Lucas Eliott cannot stop loving in return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, he's been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott suddenly wants to bare his soul to Lucas about everything but there's still a tiny voice in his head telling him to hold back, to keep one last piece of himself from Lucas and to guard it fiercely or risk being judged. "I even have a street name." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there's a promise of a smile pulling at the corners of Lucas's mouth and voice goes silent. "No shit?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's Otteli."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut the fuck up! Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now?" Eliott's head throbs from the excitement in Lucas's voice and he grimaces. Lucas quickly apologies and presses butterfly kisses onto his forehead. "Shit sorry, baby."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was like 12 when I picked out the name,” he pouts. “I thought it was cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you think it’s cool, then it’s cool,” Lucas concedes indulgently, warm lips ghosting over Eiott’s skin. “You’re so fucking cute, Otteli.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you know who else is cute?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ouba. Do you have any more photos of my baby?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> baby," Lucas pointedly corrects before depositing his phone on Eliott's chest. "And yes I do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that evening, Eliott is napping on the couch. They snuggle quietly as another movie plays, fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. When the knock on the door breaks the silence, Lucas is hard pressed to untangle himself from Eliott but he also doesn’t want their unknown visitor to wake him up. So he slips off the couch as careful as can be and tiptoes to the door, wondering who could be at their door this time of day. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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